


Diving

by TheIceQueen



Series: Temporarily CLOSED for prompts. Buttercreams and friends. [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Buttercream, Buttercream Gang, Confusion, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Frustration, Hugs, Insecurity, Loneliness, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Powerlessness, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sobbing, Trust Issues, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 13:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Prompt:Could you please write conor during his depression..Brotherly love and include any of the other boys if you can..-o-O-o-Read the tags and the notes.





	Diving

**Author's Note:**

> This is MY attempt to describe just a part of what depression CAN be and how it can effect others. It's not how it is for everyone and obviously I don't know how Conor's depression manifests. 
> 
> I was glad to be challenged with this prompt, but hesitant. There's only so much you can do to describe depression, and words (especially in your second language) is not always enough.
> 
> I hope I did it justice.

Conor had been awake all night. Tossing and turning in his bed. At first, he thought he had had one to many energy drinks while working, but soon the weariness took over his body but not his mind. Small meaningless things popped into his head and got way more time than they deserved.

_C’mon Conor. Get it together. It was a good day._

It had been a good couple of weeks, really. He’d been working hard but not more than usual. He’d spent time with the things he loved doing, surrounding himself with happy people he knew well. So, why the hell was he second-guessing every move and word he’d said the last three days?

_Was I short with him? Did she misunderstand me? Was I good enough on that last track? They would tell me if it was bad, right?_

_You’re overthinking it. No one is angry, and your friends only wants the best for you._

_We’re all friends right, even though some works for me?_

Even though he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, and it wasn’t true, as he got more tired he lost the ability to reason with himself and gave up on fighting.

_I’m too tired to face anyone. I can’t be with people today._

_I’m a mess._

It was morning and in three hours he had to be at the studio, and later he was going to meet up with Joe to eat and probably talk about the party tomorrow. He wished he was sick, so he had a reason to cancel the studio, but then he’d had to cancel with Joe too, and how about tomorrow? He couldn’t just show up all ready to party after a sick day.

Conor turned to his stomach, buried his head in the pillow and pulled the comforter all the way over him.

_Just get up. People are counting on you. It’s not that hard to get dressed and get out the door._

_C’mon Conor. Do it!_

He rolled over. Flat on his back and stared into the ceiling. Arms and legs stretched out limp on the mattress. Only his chest moved.

_People are waiting. You can do it._

_Hell, you want to do it._

He sat up as he felt his eyes burning. He wanted to make music, he loved being in the studio, but he couldn’t manage being around anyone right now. Without him even being aware of it his mind started looking for excuses. If he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to go out later, and he couldn’t fake a family emergency, everybody was friends with Jack and he was going to the party too.

_I can’t believe I’m playing hooky. I’m too old for this shit._

_Nothing is wrong with you. Get up!_

He couldn’t get his body moving and he ended up laying back down, curling up and pulling the cover over his head again. He wanted nothing more than to escape from the world.

_I’ll oversleep._

_No! It’s not fair. They will all be there. At least give them notice so they can change plans._

His eyes welled up at the thought of even talking to anyone. He grabbed his phone, to send a message that he was sick, but stopped himself. He looked at the screen. He couldn’t lock himself from the world for too long. He knew he needed to get out of the apartment later. This wasn’t a new thing, it had been like this before, and it only got worse if he locked himself away. He dropped the phone on the floor and turned around.

The next two and a half hour he second-guessed everything again and again. He kept turning to pick up the phone and giving up before he got to it.

_You’re lazy. You should be able to work. Everyone else can go to work every day and don’t question it._

_I’m never going to grow up. I’m a lost cause and it won’t get better._

The time he was supposed to be there passed by ten minutes before his phone rang. He rolled over, picked it up and took a few deep breaths.

_Maybe they’ll wait. I can make it there in half an hour. I can still go._

He really wanted to go, he felt like the biggest let down in history.

“Hey.”

_“Conor we’re in the studio waiting. Are you on your way?”_

“Ehm. No. Sorry you woke me. I’m not sure when I can be there.”

_“Oh, okay. You’re alright?”_

“Yeah I just overslept. Is it possible to reschedule?”

_“Yeah, we can do that. I’ll text you.”_

“Thanks.”

_“Sure. Get some sleep. You sound like you might be coming down with something.”_

Conor was not coming down with something, but now he whished he did. Tears were blocking his throat and he swallowed a few times before laying back down.

_I’m a fraud and a crybaby._

He looked at his phone and before dropping it to the floor again he realized that he had six hours before he was meeting Joe.

It would be good to get out. To talk to Joe. Just two people and food. He could manage that, and he’d been looking forward to that party for weeks. It was basically going to be all the guys getting together to play games and get drunk. It was just what he needed to get back on top.

He still felt bad for deceiving the others and he was going to pay the studio for the scheduled time, but he was finally able to fall into a fitfull sleep.

* * *

The alarm went off and notified Conor that he had an hour to get hour of the door. He was looking forward to seeing Joe, but he couldn’t mange to even think about going outside.

_It’s good to get outside. One step at a time. Shower first._

He stood up and got into the shower, he got dressed fixed his hair and even got down a small bowl of cereal. He was going out to eat with Joe, but he hadn’t eaten all day and he was starving. Everything was handled on auto-pilot and he didn’t think about it. Ten minutes before he had to go, he was done and sat down on the couch with his phone. He opened one app after the other, routinely checking all social media, but he wasn’t looking at the screen.

_I can’t go. I’m too tired._

_Of course, You can go. You’re all set. Just need shoes._

He thought over the events of the next half an hour in his head. Out the door, down the street, into the restaurant. His hands started shaking and he placed the phone next to him on the couch. Maybe he was the first one there, that meant he would have to talk to someone. Conor’s eyes started burning. Eventually he would meet Joe and they would hug and Joe would be right there in front of him expecting him to act all normal and happy. Conor brushed a tear from his cheek.

_Get it together. It’s Joe, for God’s sake!_

Determined and fast Conor walked to the hallway, put on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He made sure the keys and his wallet were in there and grabbed the handle on the door. He froze.

_Open the God damn door._

Before he knew it, he was in bed, jacket on the floor in the hallway and shoes kicked off on the way into the room. He was staring at his phone and without thinking he sent Joe a message.

 

_SORRY MAN. I’M BEAT IT’S BEEN QUITE A FEW DAYS._

_I NEED SLEEP._

_CAN WE DO THIS ANOTHER TIME?_

 

Joe answered fast, he was probably already on his way.

 

_SURE._

_YOU OKAY? IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY._

_STILL SEE YOU TOMORROW?_

 

Conor was not okay, but it wasn’t a possibility to tell Joe that. He’d be worried, and he wouldn’t get it either way. Conor didn’t even get it himself.

 

_WOULDN'T_ _MISS IT!_

_I’M JUST TIRED. SEE YOU_

 

Conor turned the sound of his phone and put it on the bedside table. He was exhausted. No more human interaction for the rest of the day sounded amazing right now. But why did he feel so crappy then?

The rest of the day and most of the night he spent in bed, thinking about how he’d let people down.

_It’s not okay. I should at least be able to show up when I’ve promised._

_Everyone knows I’m irresponsible. I’m a liar and a complete let down._

_I don’t deserve to go to that party._

His eyes welled up again and he shook his head to get the thoughts out. They returned quickly, and he kept going back and forth in the same circle.

_I’ll never get to live a normal life. I shouldn’t be allowed to._

At four a.m., exhaustion finally and mercifully took over and he fell asleep.

* * *

When Conor woke up, all he wanted was to go back to sleep. He rolled over and looked at his phone, eight a.m. He should start getting ready in a few hours, and it would probably be good to eat something about now, but again his head wasn’t listening to reason. He’d been looking forward to this party for weeks, and now he couldn’t manage even thinking about it without getting teary-eyed. He knew this was a one-way ticket down and it would be bad, but nothing he could do now was going to help. It was too late.

_This is it._

_It’s never getting better._

Conor got up and walked emotionless to the bathroom. He needed to think strait. He opened the cold faucet and splashed water in his face. When he looked up from the towel, he made eye-contact with a red-faced, sad little boy in the mirror. For a moment he stood there trying to force a smile but eventually he realized that it wasn’t going to happen, and the tears broke from his eyes. He felt a kick to his stomach and broke away from the mirror. Hunched over he supported himself on the sink, but it wasn’t enough to keep him form ending up on hands and knees on the floor. He gasped for air and crying loudly he crumbled up, back against the corner and knees under his chin.

* * *

 

**Caspar - Worry**

“Hey Joe. Conor just texted me. He’s not coming.”

Joe looked like he needed to let the message sink in and then nodded, like he wasn’t that surprised. “What did he say?”

“He just said that he was coming down with something.” Caspar was sure Conor was great just the other day, but stuff like that could happen fast. However, Joe’s face let him to believe that something was up. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s probably nothing. He was really tired yesterday. Maybe he just doesn’t want to make us all sick.”

Caspar agreed, and he and Joe got back to helping Byron with the food. Something was off though. Joe had suddenly gotten quiet and he only answered in one-syllable words. Caspar thought the message from Conor over, a hundred times. Normally, he would go more into details, Conor wasn’t one for sympathy votes, only when he had a cold, then he would turn on his I’m-dying-voice. Why hadn’t he called?

“Joe?” Joe looked like he was far away, in another world. “Joe!”

“Yeah?” Joe turned and almost dropped a bottle of vodka in the prosses.

“Are you thinking about Conor? Somethings off. Should we call him?”

Joe nodded and then deep in thought he shook his head. “No. I mean. It’s probably just me overthinking. Maybe we should just have Mikey stop by when he’s picking up Josh.”

* * *

 

**Mikey - Shock**

Joe had been adamant on telling him that Conor had only told them he was coming down with something, and it probably wasn’t more than that, but he hadn’t been able to hide the concern in his voice. They knew the patterns by now, but no one wanted to think the worst if it wasn’t confirmed. Joe hadn’t used the word “diving” and had underlined that he was most likely just overthinking everything. Mikey had just told Josh that they were going to stop by to check if Conor needed anything.

The door was unlocked so Mikey knocked and when there wasn’t an answer he went in. He didn’t want to startle Conor if he was asleep, so he stepped quietly. Josh waited just inside the door. Conor wasn’t in the bedroom.

“Conor? It’s Mikey. Where’re you at?”

There wasn’t an answer. He looked in the kitchen and living room, nothing.

“Conor?!”

Mikey shared a confused look with Josh. Maybe he’d gone out to grab some food or medicine or even went to see a doctor. It was a good thing. He picked up his phone to try and get Conor on the line to tell him that he’d forgotten to lock his door. On his way out, just as a reflex of still being in searching-mode, he pushed the door to the bathroom and saw Conor in the far corner. Mikey froze.

Josh must have noticed his hesitation, because he stepped closer and Mikey had to hold up a hand to make him stop. He didn’t think two people was a good idea right now.

Conor had his forehead on his knees and his arms wrapped tight around his legs. Like a soldier stepping into a minefield, Mikey came closer. He kneeled down in front of Conor.

“Dude, how long have you been here?”

Conor didn’t answer.

“Conor?”

Conor started shaking like he was crying, but no sound came out. Mikey put a hand on Conors. “C’mon man, talk to me.”

“I’m… I’m just tired.”

Mikey had a hard time believing that. He’d never seen anyone that tired.

“What do you need me to do?”

Conor seemed like he held his breath, so Mikey let him think for a moment. “I… Just leave. I need sleep.”

There was no way that was going to happen. This wasn’t the first time Conor had been down, but Mikey had never seen him like this. He knew some of the others had seen something like it, but this was bad.

“I’m staying right here. You can sleep, but I’m not leaving, at least not before Jack can get here.”

Conor looked up. The apologetic look on his face made Mikey’s chest hurt. “Please don’t tell anyone. You should go to the party and have fun. I don’t want to ruin it.”

Mikey handed Conor some tissue paper, to wipe his eyes and nose. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he had to do something, and he knew two things. One; he wasn’t about to leave Conor alone. And two; he couldn’t deal with this himself. He needed help, to help Conor.

“Okay. I’ll make you a deal.” Conor looked at his knees. The direct contact seemed too much for him to handle. “I’ll stay here, and Josh will go to the party and he’ll tell Jack that you want him to stay, but he won’t lie.”

Conor pressed his head against his knees again. He must know that Jack would come running as soon as he knew, but they had made a pact with Conor when he got better last time that they wouldn’t keep secrets.

* * *

 

**Josh - Insecurity**

Mikey had given him the car keys, with shaking hands and a smile, and told him that he better not scratch it. He hadn’t seen Conor, but he’d heard everything. How the hell was he going to tell Jack, Joe and Caspar that Conor was diving again? He didn’t know where the word “diving” came from exactly, maybe Conor had used it to describe it a long time ago. Josh hadn’t been directly involved the other times, but he knew that it was something he’d never understand fully, and it scared him. How was he going to help if he didn’t know what they were fighting?

Josh was the last to arrive and was greeted with happy faces ready to have a good time. He shared a quick look with Joe and they stepped aside. They didn’t manage to say anything before Jack leaned his arm on Josh’s shoulder.

“So, where’s Mikey?”

Josh hoped that Joe would take over, but he quickly realized that he didn’t know anything yet.

“He’s with Conor? We drove by to see if he needed anything.”

Jack smiled and grabbed a cup of pop. “So, is he coming later or are my brother near death?”

Josh wanted to tell Jack that Conor was fine. They all needed this party, Jack too. He didn’t want to lay this on him again. Conor had dived a few times the years he’d known him. It had mostly been a few weeks, but last time it had been over four months, and they were all concerned that Jack would go down too, if not with depression, then with stress.

“Jack.” Joe took the cup from Jack and when he’d gotten his full attention he looked at Josh and Jack’s eyes followed. By now he looked confused.

“I think he’s diving.”

Jack’s eyes went empty and he leaned back against the counter. Joe instinctively moved forward, ready to catch him if he’d fall, but he didn’t. He looked at the floor and bit his lip. Like he wanted to speak but didn’t dare say anything.

“You think?”

Josh was pretty damn sure. The state Mikey had found Conor in, didn’t leave much room for doubt.

“No. Jack, I’m sorry. I’m sure. Mikey found him crying in the bathroom.”

Everyone in the room had heard the conversation. Oli turned down the music, and silence spread as they waited for Jack to speak.

“I’m going.”

Jack stood up and went for the door.

“Jack. Listen!” Josh knew that it wouldn’t do any good, but they’d promised Conor to at least try. “Conor want you to stay here. Mikey is with him and he’s probably sleeping by now.”

Jack looked at all of their faces and then he turned and walked out the door.

* * *

 

**Jack - Fear**

Jack’s pulse was racing and not only because he was walking too fast through the city. This was the stuff of his nightmares. The day he wouldn’t be able to be there to help his brother back. His fun, creative brother and his friend. If the monster took over for good, he’d had to mourn his big-brother as if he’d really lost him.

Jack didn’t bother knocking, and walked strait in.

“Conor? Mikey?”

“We’re in here.” Mikey called out from the living room.

Jack walked fast through the door. Mikey was sitting in the recliner and Conor was sitting curled up in one end of the couch. Jack sat down in the other end.

“Conor?”

“You shouldn’t have come. I’m okay.” Conor’s voice was raw from crying his face was red and tearstained and the bags under his eyes looked like they were build op over several days without sleep.

“Of course, I’d come. You’re not okay.”

Conor looked down on his knees and wrapped his arms tighter around his bent legs.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Jack could see Conor was thinking. Was it that long? Didn’t he remember?

“Yesterday, around noon maybe?”

Jack looked at Mikey and the tall guy nodded and went to the kitchen.

“You need to eat. Mikey will find something that’s not totally horrible in your kitchen.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Conor always did this. It was like his body shot down in response to the depression.

“I know. But it’s important, okay?”

Conor nodded and turned his head to the side and leaned his temple on his knee, looking away.

Jack hated feeling this helpless. He never had any idea what to do. He knew that even when Conor didn’t want anyone around him, he needed it. But there was absolutely nothing they could do besides being there and make sure he wasn’t accidently starving himself.

Mikey brought over sandwiches for the brothers and asked if they needed anything else. Jack shook his head and told him thank you. Jack turned down Mikey’s offer about staying, even in another room, if they needed him for something. Conor would do better one on one, but he let Mikey know that he appreciated what he’d done, and Conor did too, even if he couldn’t say so right now.

Mikey made Jack promise to text him later and said that he would go back to Joe and Byron’s place.

“Conor. You don’t have to talk, but please eat something.” Jack put a hand on Conor’s shoulder and watched his older brother slowly unfold himself and sit cross-legged in the couch. He took the plate and stared at it for what seemed like hours before picking up the sandwich.

Jack had finished his before Conor was a quarter in, but it seemed like he’d given up on the rest, blankly gazing trough it.

“Are you able to get a bit more down?”

Conor shook his head and placed the plate on the coffee table and returned to his previous crumbled up position, still not looking up at anything. Jack wanted to shake Conor out of it. Yell at him to come back, but he knew it wouldn’t be of any help. Conor wasn’t choosing this, that he knew. Conor would never choose this.

“Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“I can’t. It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I just need some time. You can go.”

“Conor. Listen. I’m staying right here. If you can’t sleep, then tell me something. How are you feeling?”

Conor turned his head away again. This time Jack was sure it was to hide the water pressing at his eyes. He took a few deep breaths which only confirmed Jack’s assumption that he was trying very hard not to cry.

“It doesn’t make sense. You don’t get it.”

“No. I don’t. I don’t understand what you’re going through, but _please_ talk to me. Just don’t have to explain, just tell. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

Jack was desperate to get Conor talking. The only way his brother was going to sleep was if he’d got an outlet, if only just for some of the thoughts.

“I… I feel. I don’t know.” Conor shook his head. Jack waited for a second then he took one of Conor’s hands away from holding his legs and held it tight.

“I feel… lonely.” Jack’s heart sunk. “I’m tired of trying… I don’t know how to be normal.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Conor finally opened up. He’d never spoken like that while he was down before and now Jack had to respond and he was blank.

He was tearing up now, he had nothing else to do than to scoot closer on the couch and pull Conor’s hand, hoping he would accept him hugging him. Conor understood the gesture and slowly moved his feet to the floor, making room for Jack to embrace him. Jack held his brother close and tight.

“It’s okay to feel lonely. I know none of us really get it, but you’re not alone. You know, that right?”

Jack felt Conor nod his head and then rest it on his shoulder. Jack held on till Conor let go. For almost a minute they sat in silence just looking at Conor’s hands in Jack’s.

“You should really try to sleep.” Conor started to shake his head but Jack stood up and pulled Conor by the hands till he was standing too. “I’ll stay. I’ll be in your room till you sleep.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“That may very well be, but I’m staying anyway.” Jack smiled and moved towards the bedroom without letting go of Conor’s hands.

Conor got ready for bed without a word and laid down on his side, back against the chair in the room. Jack was going to be there for Conor if he needed it and he was not going to sit behind him, wondering if he was sleeping or not. He climbed on the bed and sat, back against the headboard. Conor looked startled but accepted the hand on top of his.

“Do you believe me when I say that I love you, that we all love you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Lonely is one thing, but you’re not alone.”

The next hour Jack sat there in silence, once in a while wiping away a tear or two from his bother’s face, hoping that he would sleep soon. He wondered if he should call their parents this time. Last time they hadn’t, and the gang had been there for Conor. He couldn’t bear to think that his strong and proud older brother should have to go through that again, he wasn’t sure he could do it again himself. Joe and Caspar had been great support, the others too, but he could see it was harder on himself, and of course it would be. This time it seemed to have come more sudden and the dive had been fast, it scared Jack to a point where he struggled getting his lungs filled all the way.

Eventually Conor fell asleep. Jack went to the living room, just to clear his mind before turning in. After he’d texted Mikey, he fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

 

**Byron – Powerless**

The next morning Byron and Joe were cleaning the apartment after the night before. It hadn’t been the party they had set up for, the drinking had been slower, and the music turned down. They’d talked over every scenario that might unfold with Jack and Conor. They all agreed that they wouldn’t press the situation, the brothers knew, they were all there for them. Jack knew.

Byron had been quiet, most of the night. Last time hadn’t been like this. There was no big event where they all had been together, so most of them learned about it down the line. He figured, it wasn’t like you’d call your whole group of friends up, just to let them know. Joe had spent a lot of time with Jack, but never too long in the apartment when he was there. Joe had spoken about it like a casual thing. Like he was supporting Jack while Conor was going through some stuff. Only after Conor had come by the apartment a few times and seemed like his old self, he and Joe had, once in a while, mentioned these little things that let Byron understand that this was more than just some stuff.

When Mikey had gotten the message, that Conor was sleeping and Jack was sorry for rushing out of there like that but grateful for everything, they slowly started talking about other stuff. They had too, Joe and Caspar basically made them. It was the middle of the night when Oli and Mikey broke up the talking and went home. Caspar and Josh had stayed a bit longer but eventually they left too, and Byron had watched Joe turn in without saying a word.

Byron was still quiet, cleaning, and Joe was too. Normally, Joe would be miserable the day after drinking, or he would take advantage that Byron was hungover, but not today. Byron didn’t know if Joe was worried or sad, but he knew it was more than just seeing the evening go down the drain.

“You alright?”

Joe put down the trash bag and started on loading the dishwasher.

“Yeah.” He sounded hesitant and Byron was sure his thoughts was a long way from here.

“You thinking about Conor?”

Joe hummed as a response and emotionless continued on his task. Byron wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do. He couldn’t do anything, that much he knew, but Joe might. He knew more about this than Byron, but maybe that meant that Joe understood that he couldn’t help either. Byron was getting dizzy from all the thoughts going round and round and not getting to any solutions.

“Should we do something? Is there anything we _can_ do?”

Joe put both hands on the counter and stood with his back to Byron for a second before he turned around. Byron watched his roommate shaking his head slowly and looking at the floor. He looked tired, more than after a late night. He hadn’t been drunk so he had to have slept horrible.

“We can’t do anything except being there when he needs us to be.”

Joe was tearing up and obviously trying to fight it. Byron walked over and rested his bum against the counter as well. Standing next to Joe looking at the same invisible spot on the kitchen floor, he tried to make sense of the situation, but he soon gathered that it wasn’t a puzzle that could be fixed that easily.

“Joe?” Joe hummed again, just letting Byron know that he’d heard him. “Is it worse this time?”

From the corner of his eye, Byron could see Joe vaguely nodding.

“From what Mikey told me, it wasn’t good, but I don’t know. I really hope not.”

“Yeah, me neither… Joe?”

“Yeah.”

Byron wasn’t sure at all, that this was the way to go about things but doing nothing would be unbearable for both of them.

“You said; _be there for him_. Maybe you should just go.”

Joe looked up at him, and for a moment Byron hated himself for even suggesting anything like that. Who was he to come with advise? He didn’t know anything.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but…” Joe started moving the dishes around the countertop, not really getting anywhere with the cleaning.

“But, what?”

“I’m not sure Conor would want any more people there.”

It made sense. Conor would probably be embarrassed on top of everything else, but how would he know for sure that they were all there if it was only Jack?

“I think you should go. He’ll kick you out, or Jack will tell you to leave if it’s too much, but maybe you should _show_ him instead of telling him.”

* * *

 

**Joe – Frustration**

Joe’s hand shook as he knocked on the door. Jack opened. He looked tired and he was wearing the same clothes from last night. They looked at each other silently for about two seconds before Jack hugged Joe and thanked him for coming.

When Jack let go, Joe held him by both shoulders to make sure he was still steady.

“How is he?”

Jack looked at the half-open door to the bedroom and shook his head.

“It’s bad Joe. He dived fast. He hadn’t said a word all morning, he just turns away.” Jack was shaking under Joe’s grip. “I can’t remember the last time it was this… violent.”

Joe pulled Jack in for another hug. What else was he supposed to do? Jack needed a break, he couldn’t have slept well. Joe hadn’t either, but at least he’d known that Jack was there.

“Go grab some coffee. I’ll check on him and then come join you.” Jack was about to protest, but Joe wrapped an arm around him and moved the him passed the bedroom door. He nodded at him to go along and Jack walked into the kitchen.

In the doorway to Conor’s room he could see the body of his friend lying with his back against him. He had to gather himself before walking to the other side of the bed, into Conor’s line of sight. He wasn’t sleeping, his eyes were open, but it didn’t look like he was aware of anything around him.

“Conor?”

Joe kneeled down to level with his face, but Conor still didn’t move.

“Conor. It’s Joe. Can you just let me know that you can hear me?”

Conor rolled over and turned his back against Joe. “I hear you. Now go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t want to talk, okay. But Jack and I will be here, till when you need us.”

He didn’t answer, but when Joe heard a sniffle, he moved to the other side of the bed and sat down again. Conor started to move away again, but Joe grabbed his hand.

“Conor. Just talk to me. Yell at me if you want, but please just say something.”

“I don’t want to yell. Not at you.”

Joe was afraid to ask but Conor had finally opened a small window to a conversation. “Who do you want to yell at?”

Tears made it out of Conor’s eyes and Joe looked in horror as his strong and humorous friend started unraveling in front of him. The word came out as a whisper dragging the sound of crying with it.

“Me.”

Joe hated himself for asking, for making Conor tell him this. He hated that Conor felt this way and that he was so beaten by it. Joe wanted to tell him that he wasn’t weird, that he wasn’t a bad person and there was no reason for him to feel this way, but he knew that Conor was in no place to take his word for it.

“Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Conor took his hand from Joe and pulled up his knees. He looked down in the mattress and Joe could see him struggling to control his crying, so he could still speak.

“I’m a mess. I should be able to get out there and have a life like normal people, but I can’t.”

Water was building up in Joe’s eyes, but right now he had to concentrate on what was important. Conor. He didn’t know what to say, but something had to be said. He couldn’t leave a statement like that hanging in the air. He sat down on his knees, leaned against the bed and put a firm hand on Conor’s shoulder.

“Look. I know everything feels bad right now, but you have a life. You have a good life, you make music and travel and you have lots of friends who all love you.”

Joe felt the boy under his hand shake more, and soon he was sobbing and, in attempt to hide the sound, he pushed is face to his knees and wrapped his arms around his head.

By instinct, Joe got up to sit on the bed. Lifted Conor’s head and shoulders and the crying ball of friend allowed him to roll him back down so his head was resting on Joe’s thigh.

“Just cry. It’s okay.”

Joe rubbed big circles on the trembling boy’s back and placed the other hand lightly in his hair.

Jack must have heard the crying, because now he was standing in the doorway. Joe sent him a small smile, he hoped looked just a little comforting, and gestured with a quick head-movement for him to come over. The younger Maynard kneeled down in front of his brother and grabbed his hand. Joe noticed the relief on Jack’s face as Conor squeezed his hand back.

None of them knew how long they stayed like that. Neither of them wanted to move, especially when Conor’s crying stilled and his body started to relax enough that his knees weren’t pressed against his chin anymore.

* * *

 

**Conor**

_I’m a disappointment._

_They only want the best for me. Why can’t I just be better for them?_

“I’m sorry.”

Conor sat up. He rubbed away the last of the tears with both hands. Joe and Jack followed his every move while he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from a chair and put them on.

_I need to… I can’t._

_I don’t know what I need._

“Conor?” Joe spoke quietly. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Conor couldn’t deal with it all right now and left the room before anyone could say anymore. He felt his heart beating at his chest, it was going too fast.

_Breathe Conor. This is freaking embarrassing._

He steadied himself against the countertop and put the other hand on his knee.

“Conor?”

Jack sounded almost scared. He looked up and both of them were standing by the door.

He stood op straight and gathered himself enough to speak and look at them at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

Joe took a step closer. “It’s alright. Talk to us. Why do you think you have to be sorry?”

“I mess everything up. I ruined the party for all of you. I didn’t mean to.” Conor could hear his blood rushing by his ears and he started to get breathless again, but he had to say this. They needed to know that he was sorry that he was such a screwup. “I try to be normal, I do.”

The room started spinning. He grabbed the countertop again and looked at the floor in attempt to find something steady to focus on. It didn’t work.

There was an arm under each of his and two hands grabbed his. Joe and Jack must have each taken a side. He was moved backwards.

“Breathe. Conor. We got you.”

Jack’s voice came through clear, but only after he was sitting on the floor with his back against a wall, was he able to see again.

“Sorry.” He could only get a whisper out.

“You’re talking yourself into a panic attack. Breathe for a second.” Joe wrapped his arm around his shoulders. If felt good, safe. He was finally able to make the room stop spinning. Conor nodded to let Joe know that he’d heard him. He knew Joe was right and he definitely didn’t want a full-blown panic attack, so he tried to take a few deep breaths. It got easier and eventually he could breathe without giving it much thought.

“Conor. Look at me.” Jack was sitting in front of him. Conor pulled his knees to his chest. They were shaking until Jack put both hands on them. “Look at me. Please.”

They were trying so desperately to help, but he couldn’t get himself to look at either of them.

_I can’t put this on them. I don’t deserve people like them._

“Conor! I’m begging you. Look at me.”

Conor looked up and found a spot on Jack’s chest that he could focus on.

Conor could hear Jack taking a deep breath, but the words following were only a whisper. “Please, man. C’mon, work with me here.”

Conor bit his lover lip to keep it from quivering when he raised his eyes to look at his very relived little-brother.

Jack kept eye-contact and even though it was the hardest thing Conor had done all day, he did too.

“Listen. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

_They still don’t get it. I wasn’t clear enough. It’s impossible._

“You don’t mean to do any of this. This is not a choice, we know. Don’t think about the party. We’ll drop anything to help.”

Conor’s eyes were burning, and he looked down. Jack grabbed both his hands and Joe’s arm around him tightened. With tears dripping on his pants, Conor managed to gather enough momentum to voice a whole sentence.

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He gasped a few times for air. “I can do it on my own.”

Joe took over. “Maybe you can. But we’re not going to let you go through this alone.”

_They love you and want to help. Listen to them._

_They wouldn’t lie?_

_No! They stood by me for four months last time._

Conor couldn’t help it anymore, he cried loudly and hugged his legs tighter. This was too much to handle at once. He was so confused as to why these two, and all the others cared about him. Why they cared enough to worry and put up with this. He gasped for air and felt Jack move to sit next to him.

All sitting against the wall. Joe’s arm around his shoulders and Conor’s hand in Jack’s lap, squeezed tight by both of his brother’s. He was safe between the two. They let him cry. Loudly. They let him be a mess. They didn’t talk until Conor was only hiccupping for air and leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack brushed his thumb over the back of Conor’s hand.

“You are worthy of everything you have. Your career, all the good things that have happened… us.”

Conor bit his lower lip again and shook his head slowly on his brother’s shoulder. He knew Jack meant what he said, he just wasn’t sure it was the truth.

“I know you don’t see it right now, but you’ll see it again, and until then, we’ll be here to remind you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this is from own experiences and I'm not trying to justify anything, just to explain a small part of it. If you have any questions, I'm perfectly okay with answering. I've come a long way.
> 
> I'm not going to post a story like that without reaching out to people who feel like they can't tell anyone what they're feeling, because it doesn't make sense.  
> If you need to let loose, and don't know where to, write me on Tumbler, i'll make time to listen.
> 
> Tumbler: its-me-theicequeen
> 
> -o-O-o-  
> I have way too many projects right now, so I'm closing for prompts for the time being. Check the notes in the series description for more info.


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